I feel compelled to apologize yet again. My blogging fever seems to have abated. I’ve done it almost every day since mid-2006. That’s a lot of blather to come out of one person. Now, every time I think of something to say, I think “who cares?” That’s why I’m relying on nostalgia, sketchbooks and photos these days. Hang with me or bail out. Maybe I’ll get my groove back after a while.

Today, I think I’ll share a photo of my late grandparents with you. My brother sent this to me just the other day. I’ve never seen it before.


These are my mother’s parents in by far the most touching photo I have ever seen of them. This is a photo of love. Look at Grandma’s face. I think everyone should be gazed upon the way she is looking at Grandpa. Look how they are holding hands.

Grandma Fanny was a kind of a kvetchy lady. She had a tendency to natter at Grandpa in a stream of haranguing Yiddish. Though I never questioned that they loved each other, I never saw anything to confirm this until now. The love is unmistakable in this photo. And Grandpa—such a mensch. He was a funny guy and his impish expression tells me he just cracked wise. Maybe he was teasing my father, behind the camera. And Grandma is laughing at his joke. The women in my family love a man who makes them laugh. I knew that about Mom and Dad, but never thought about it with Grandma and Grandpa.

You learn a little something every day.

Labels: memoir